


fuck you jk rowling

by WendelinTheWriter



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendelinTheWriter/pseuds/WendelinTheWriter
Summary: Snape is a trans lesbian and Hermione fucks her and there is NOTHING jk rowling can do about it
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 47
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

Serena looked at herself in the mirror as she slowly spread the shaving cream on her cheeks, in admiration almost. At first, she hesitated in spending such a sizeable amount of money in muggle surgery, but it had been worth it.

There was only so much her potions could do for growing her tits and changing her facial structure. Wizardry medicine was incredibly far behind in gender reassignment procedures, Serena had found out the hard way.

But now? Now she could wear the clothes she wanted without being mistaken for a man, apply lipstick and not feel like a clown, put on a bra and not feel like a joke.

She felt as if her life had just started, after forty years of waiting, waiting to die at the hands of Voldemort, and then waiting for the trial, and waiting to gather the courage to face the truth about herself, waiting for the Salem Witch Institute to make a decision about her delicate case.

Now she was officially Serena Prince. She had a pair of nice tits, and a job — still teaching, though post-grad students were better to deal with, enjoyable almost — and a source of income and a feminine face and a feminine voice and she was on the other side of the world and nothing that happened in Hogwarts mattered anymore.

All was well.

Or so she thought.

It was orientation day for the post-grads of Salem Witch Institute.

The Institute was split into two locations: the boarding school forty minutes away from town, for the middle and high schoolers, and the post-grad campus in the wizardry neighborhood of Salem, that had its own schedules, rules and regimen.

Thank Merlin.

Serena liked teaching. She really just disliked children. And teaching at a place where she was liked was something else entirely. So she left her little townhouse that morning with a cheerful overlook of the day.

Orientation day was almost fun now that she had built a reputation and she didn’t have much of a problem with students seeing her face. It had been a struggle in the first year, before she decided to go ahead and blow up her life savings in plastic surgery. She had met other women like her that felt good about their faces; she just couldn’t.

And now it wasn’t a problem any longer. 

The first event of the day was a ceremony with all of the new students on the courtyard of the campus, mostly a speech from Headmistress Blackwood. All Serena had to do was sit there and nod at the right times. Easy enough…

Things turned sour when she went to put away her stuff in her office and saw way too many young women congregating on the hallways, talking in hushed whispers. One of the groups dispersed when they saw her walking past, composed of former students that were awaiting for their first classes of term.

“Good morning, Professor Prince,” said them, almost in unison.

Although Serena had reputation of being strict and exigent, it wasn’t bad enough that the students wouldn’t speak to her at all, so she thought she’d ask:

“Why is everyone speaking in whispers this morning?”

“Oh, that’s because… We heard… Hermione Granger is here.”

Serena’s face fell and the women all blanched.

“We heard she is coming for the post-grad program in Arythmancy. It might be all bullshit. We haven’t seen _her_ , and she’s been gone for three years now.”, said another one.

Serena recomposed herself with a deep breath.

“Well, don’t let me get in the way of your gossip, Miss Norman.”

Her colleagues would be able to confirm that information. If true, then it would be two more years of hiding; at least she was already skilled at the art of showing up the least amount of time possible. She hadn’t thought about the state of United Kingdom’s wizardry world at all. She had no clue Hermione Granger had been gone.

She hoped the girl had actually stayed gone and the ruckus was all but gossip.

In her heart, though, she knew there was a good chance that it _wasn’t_. At least Granger picked Arythmancy. It’d be feasible to spend two years without their paths crossing on Salem Institute’s grounds.

Serena reached the hallway lined with arches that opened up to the central patio, a large patch of grass with paths for other buildings, where the orientation ceremony for the newcomers would take place. The chairs were already set and quite a few students were sitting around. The dais had likewise been set up the night before, with chairs for the faculty members, each one representing a department — Serena would be there standing for her own, Potions —, and one of the headmistress.

She stood in the shadows of the hallway and watched. The new students came mostly from the main building and had to walk before her to reach the ceremony, so Serena could watch them at an advantage spot — everyone was too busy looking ahead to check for a teacher lurking in the shadows to their right.

The chairs started to get taken, and Serena relaxed against a pillar, having not seen anyone with Granger’s profile. It wasn’t easy to miss her fluffy hair.

But then her hopes were crushed. With her nose stuffed in a informational pamphlet, Granger trailed after a group of students towards the reception ceremony. Impossible to mistake her brown curls bouncing after her, no matter how different she looked then, as a young adult.

Her steps slowed down and she looked up from the paper, sensing that she was being watched. Before Serena could hide, their eyes met. Granger frowned for a moment and tilted her head to a side.

Serena pursed her lips. Should she run? She knew very well that not enough changed about her that she came unrecognizable. She had always been herself. Her new teaching robes weren’t much different than her old ones, except now they were made to accommodate breasts and curves.

She found out there was a difference between wanting to be seen as a woman and being feminine. She wasn’t much of the latter, so as far as clothing went, nothing had changed much.

It came to bite her in the ass, though, because now she wasn’t so different from five years ago that she couldn’t be recognized. Granger stopped on her tracks, turned on her heels and marched closer, folding her paper and putting it away on her bag.

Oh Merlin.

Should Serena just flee, after all?

Knowing Granger, it’d make things worse. She’d start a witch hunt and find her and, worse yet, ask around too much. Now, of course anyone in Salem Witch Institute could put two and two together about Serena. The faculty all knew, for instance, however no one had bothered to poke around her past.

Granger was fast approaching. There was no way to get out of it then.

Serena cleared her throat and stood very still as Granger stepped into the hallway and stood before her, speechless.

“I… I thought… I’m sorry, ma’am. I just thought I saw someone I… Used to know.”

Alright, fine. It was nice that Granger didn’t put two and two together that easily, but she’d find out soon enough.

“We’ve met before, Miss Granger. Though my name was different then. I’m Serena Prince, now. Professor Prince, for you,” Serena said, knowing damn well her voice would give her away. Not that she sounded like a man, but she liked her deep, velvety voice, and made no effort to make it more high-pitched than what it already gotten.

Granger furrowed her brows for a moment and then it hit her.

“Oh my God, I… Wow. You look…” She went silent and her eyes studied Serena top to bottom. “So good.”

Serena relaxed against her better judgment.

“Don’t think we’re going to be friends, Miss Granger.”

“O-of course, ma’am,” replied Granger, a bit disheartened. “It was just a compliment.”

Granger, too, looked rather good herself. Or maybe it was the first time Serena had a proper look at her and figured out she was cute. She looked like a doll with her lite frame, voluminous curls, her little tweed skirt, oxford shoes and burgundy sweater.

“It is nice to see you well, Granger,” Serena relented. “I hope there are no ill feelings between us.”

“None at all, I’m… Glad to see someone I know here. E-even though you’re faculty and all.”

Ah, for fuck’s sake. Granger was just too cute for Serena to be able to shoo her away.

“I heard you were gone for three years.”

“I was living in Australia for a while. Just… Taking a break. Now I feel like it’s the right time to get back on track.”

That explained the tan mark on the curve of her neck, two thin bikini stripes of a paler brown. 

“I see. I hope you find your time in Salem Witch Institute pleasant.”

“I’m sure I will, ma’am. I… I should be heading to the ceremony.”

“You should.”

Hermione retreated, though a few steps later she turned back to wave goodbye before going away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I heard JK is at it again on twitter
> 
> here's a new chapter for you all

Hermione understood Professor Prince better than she expected to. Coming to Salem Witch Institute was the means of a fresh start. In Hermione’s case, though, she wanted to leave the past behind for several different reasons. 

The biggest of them being that her parents would never recover their memories. It hurt them to try, it hurt her to try… She stayed back in Australia only because she burned through her savings to finish her education at Hogwarts; she needed to work, save money, and think what to do next now that she had no financial support, no superior education and no stable relationship. 

If she were still with Ron, for sure the Weasleys would allow her to stay with them, but she could not submit herself to an unfulfilling relationship. Leaving Hogwarts made it very clear that they didn’t have enough in common to be actual adult partners. It was fun and it was loving when they were teenagers, but after the war, all they had in common were their traumas. 

And then once in Australia Hermione got fingered by a tan swimming instructor and realized that maybe she liked women too, which was another whole can of worms. 

Salem Witch Institute did have a reputation for being a liberal all-women institution and it did also have a stellar Arythmancy post-grad program so it seemed like the obvious choice for a bisexual Black young woman trying to start fresh and forget old memories. 

And she wasn’t the only one that thought so. 

Professor Prince sat by the dais in conversation with a colleague, and Hermione took the opportunity to watch her. She seemed happier, more at ease in her skin. The last twenty plus years of her life must have been hell. 

Although Hermione could not forget she also made her students life hell, it was nice to know she stopped. And she still taught Potions and not Arythmancy, so… That was good. 

Well, their paths wouldn’t cross again. Salem Witch Institute took in students from all over the country and all over the world. It wasn’t as massive as Hogwarts, but being a post-grad institution, it wasn’t as if there were too many contact hours and, of course, there were different departments for different courses. 

Perhaps it was for the best. 

Orientation day went by in a haze for Hermione. There were too many new faces, too much novelty. She had fallen in love with the Institute and with her course; her fame, though, preceded her, and she could tell people were shying away from her.   
At least she did manage to make a new friend. 

Olivia Harris was a plump brunette that seemed to be friends with everybody and took Hermione under her wing. 

“I studied here since middle grade,” she said, apropos of explaining how in the hell she knew so many names. “Hogwarts doesn’t have a post grad program?”

“Not really.”

Besides, what kind of ruckus would it create if by some chance Hermione decide to date a girl while in the United Kingdom? Rita Skeeter was gone, and a few tabloids showed up to fill in the void. It’d be an uproar. 

“Well, it’s a shame. You’ll like it here, you’ll see, although it might be a little bit different than what you’re used to.”

One thing Hermione noticed that was different about the United States was just how far away were things. Everyone had a car and getting around without one was a hassle, so much so that the Institute had a parking lot.   
Hermione started to see why. Her flat was a thirty-minute walk away from the Institute and she tried to take a bus, but it was quicker to just walk. She imagined people lived farther off still. 

She was exhausted by the end of her orientation day and still she had no choice but to walk back. Perhaps she should get herself a bike, though the roads weren’t made with the safety of the occasional biker in mind. It seemed ridiculous to buy a car just to come and go from the Institute, though the supermarket, too, was far away… 

Hermione walked away from the Institute with a frown on her face. Buying a car and spending gas money each month had not been on her calculations at all… 

Then a car went very slowly beside her. Hermione walked faster, clutching at her shoulder bag. 

“Granger, don’t be silly,” called a voice. “You look like you need a ride.”

Hermione came to a halt and saw Professor Prince inside a black car. 

“O-oh, I… Yes, I’d love a ride. Thank you.”

Hermione opened the door and jumped in, too relieved to be self-conscious. 

“Were you lost?”

“No, just… Worried. Hm… I didn’t think everything was so far away here. I wasn’t putting in my calculations that I needed money for a car.”

With the scholarship and financial aid from both the Institute and the English Ministry of Magic, Hermione could go by two years without having to work, if, and only if, she managed to live frugally. A car wasn’t in her concept of frugal. 

“Yes, you do need a car to get around here for the most part.”

“Well, I’ll have to figure that out sometime soon. I’ve been blessed with a scholarship and financial aids, but, you know… Cars aren’t cheap.”

Professor Prince raised a brow and stopped at a red sign on the road. 

“I thought your parents were dentists.”

“They were. They are. I… I lost them.”

“Oh. I… I see. My condolences, Granger.”

Hermione looked at the window and said:

“You should turn left on the next stop.”

Professor Prince replied with a nod.

“I can take you home while you sort yourself out in here. I had no idea you lost your parents in the war.”

They were as good as dead to her, anyway. 

“Thank you, professor. I really appreciate it.”

Professor Prince kept driving. 

Hermione wanted to talk about the war. Ask Professor Prince why why why did she have to act the way she acted. But that didn’t matter anymore. The past was in the past and now… Maybe they could be friends. There was something soothing in speaking to her. They weren’t discussing the past, but they knew of it. So many things that Hermione didn’t have to explain, old wounds that need not poking. 

“Do you enjoy working here?”, she asked. 

“Teaching young adults is better than teaching children”, Professor Prince remarked with a familiar sneer. “And I’ve adjusted well. The Salem Witch Institute is very… Accommodating.”

“I… Heard of the reputation. I suppose I came here because of it. I…” Hermione toyed with a loose strand of her skirt. “It came to my knowledge I fancy women, so I thought I might as well…”

Well, wasn’t that an oversharing kind of car ride? But it seemed like Professor Prince would understand, at least somewhat, the need to go to a new place. 

“Ah”, exclaimed she, rather softly, taking the turn Hermione indicated. 

“Yeah, you can imagine how it would be for me back home if I were…” Hermione sighed. “I wouldn’t have peace. I think… You know this better than I do.”

“Yes, I do know the feeling very well.”

“Sorry for dumping this on you,” Hermione said. “I’m sure you didn’t sign up for this when you offered me a ride.”

“I understand, Granger.”

Hermione kept to herself the rest of the ride, except to tell Professor Prince when to turn to reach the tiny building with tinier apartments that Hermione rented out. 

They parked in front of the building within ten minutes. 

Hermione unbuckled herself and didn’t know what to say to Professor Prince. 

“Thank you so much, professor. I can’t put into words—”

“It’s fine, Granger”, she said, cutting Hermione off. “You know where the parking lot is, don’t you? I leave at five p.m. sharp every day, so you can meet me there whenever you need a ride home.”

“Yes, I do. Hm, thank you.”

Hermione slithered away and waved goodbye to Professor Prince, who only left once she was safe and sound inside her building.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m not going to make a habit out of this,” Hermione said apologetically as soon as Professor Prince showed up, on her way to her car. 

“Granger, it’s the least I could possibly do for you.” 

Hermione fumbled with her knapsack and her pile of books before standing up from the bench by the path that led to the parking lot, her limbs refusing to respond to her properly — as she found herself unable to respond to Professor Prince’s genuine kindness. 

Despite the fact that yes, it was the least she could do after everything. 

“How was your first actual day?”, she asked, her keys clinking against the thermos she held. 

“It was tiring. I… I haven’t been to a school in such a long time. I’m not used to it anymore. It doesn’t help that is much more taxing than Hogwarts used to be.”

Although Professor Prince was terribly rude when she remarked that to Hermione, so many years ago, memorizing lines from a book wasn’t going to help; it didn’t mean being smart, and that was very much true for post-grad Arythmancy. 

Hermione could see already the long works she’d have to spend trying to crack long exercise sheets and solving complicated equations. 

They reached the car, Professor Prince had said nothing yet. She only replied after they were inside, her sat behind the steering wheel, Hermione beside her. 

“You should seek counseling before the workload truly hits you. The Institute does offer counseling sessions, and I’m sure you won’t have to wait very long to arrange one. Your situation is…” She paused, picking the right word. “Fragile, I can imagine.”

Professor Prince slipped out of the parking spot and went into the streets, absentmindedly. Hermione took a while to know what to say to the advice. 

Because, yes, Hermione was struggling, and she couldn’t remember what it felt like not to struggle. She thought an academic setting and some structure to her days would help but being so far from home and people she knew was as bad as it was good to be back to school. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I’ll try that and see if it works.”

Professor Prince eyed her with thinly disguised concern.

“And… Have you made any colleagues?”

“No. It’s difficult, everything about my life and what I’ve been doing circles back to my parents, that circles back to the war, so I feel like I can’t talk about myself, which is what people want to know the most when they meet me.”

“I know how that feels like,” Professor Prince remarked. 

“Are you talking about… Hm…”

Hermione felt like walking on a minefield, uncertain of how much kindness Professor Prince would still feel like extending to her if the conversation was about…

“My transition.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to pry.”

Professor Prince sighed and took the left turn at the stop signal. Apparently, she had already memorized the way to Hermione’s building. 

“I can’t exactly pretend it didn’t happen in some situations. This is one of them, I suppose.”

“You seem happy.”

“I am happy.”

Though that didn’t quite sound as genuine as everything else Professor Prince had said, but Hermione supposed no one could go through a war like she had and not have some everlasting demons. 

“I’m happy for you. It’s a shame it took so long.”

Hermione did mean that.

“It took me very long to figure myself out. I’m certain you understand the feeling.”

They exchanged a knowing glance. Between them there was a sense of kinship that was bigger than any grudge that Hermione might have hold on to. The past didn’t matter at all; it was gone, settled, and it was… Comfortable that neither had to explain themselves about it. 

“I guess I do.”

Hermione leaned back on the seat, knowing the ride would end in a few moments. She wished she lived farther off: those shorter conversations were the closest she had to actual human interaction in the past year. Hooking up with stranger girls was fun for a while, but even that stop feeling so good after the novelty about the entire thing was gone. 

“If you don’t want to seek counselling, my office is open for you if you need it,” Professor Prince offered. Hermione’s stop was right on the next block. “If… I can be of any help to you. I’m faculty, after all, even if I’m not in your department.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m not offering this because I feel like I owe you. To me it’s clear that maybe talking to someone that you won’t have to explain yourself to might be easier. Even though my advice is to be taken with a heavy dose of salt. I clearly am not the best person to hand out life advice, but I can listen.”

Hermione hesitated. The car stopped right in front of her new home. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Shall I insult you to make you feel better about this?”

Against her will, Hermione laughed and when she looked, Professor Prince was holding back a grin herself. 

“I just didn’t think—”

“That I’m a half-decent person. I’m aware. But I try to be, nowadays. Times have changed, so have I.”

“Well, okay. I’ll drop by your office to talk sometime soon.”

Hermione hopped off and once she was inside, she watched Professor Price drive away. 

Why did taking her help feel like a huge mistake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! cannot answer to every single comment bc i have tendinitis on my hands, i shouldn't even been writing fanfic BUT
> 
> JK'S BEEN AT IT SO
> 
> thank you for the comments!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Serena was surprised to see Granger taking up the offer and showing up at her office, a good two hours before the time Serena usually left the Institute. Though it did take Granger the entire week to get around doing that…

It was Friday.

“Hey”, she said, coy, as her eyes scanned around the room.

The office had to be nicest Serena ever had. It had natural sunlight coming in from the big windows, it had plenty of shelf space, it even had space for a little sitting area with a couch and a coffee table — that she only used for napping in the middle of the day.

Serena set the essay she was grading aside.

“Well, hello. What brings you here?”

“I just thought I’d show up to let you know I’m not going home with you today. Since I’ve taking a ride with you all week, I thought—”

She stopped herself, as if embarrassed for presuming Serena would care. Her assumption was right. Serena would wonder where the fuck was Granger and why the fuck was she late.

“The work is already piling up?”

“I’m going out for drinks, actually.”

Granger peeled herself away from the door and walked towards the desk in the most roundabout way possible.

“Oh, of course. With friends or…” Serena let her voice trail off. She wasn’t sure why she cared to know the details.

“With friends. A friend and her girlfriend. I’m third wheeling, but I thought I’d be nice to go and know the area. It’s a bar called…” A pause. “I don’t know. Something with witch.”

“The Wicked Witch.” Serena remarked before she could think twice about it.

“You know the place?”

“Granger, look at me for a second.” She made a wide gesture towards herself, and her clothes and said: “Do I look like someone who _doesn’t_ know where the local lesbian bar is?”

Serena had never actually come out to anyone and said she was a lesbian. It had implications coming from someone like her; she could anticipate the questions. Why make her life harder for herself and transition if she liked women? Wouldn’t it be easier to fake it as a straight man? Would women who liked other women even be into her if she had a dick?

Granger took a second to answer.

“I don’t know, I assumed you were in a relationship or married so you wouldn’t even bother to go to bars.”

“Nice of you to assume that, but no.”

Again, an information Serena didn’t intend to share.

“So you go to The Wicked Witch?”

“When it’s not crawling with students. Sometimes.”

Granger finally took a seat, putting her bag on her lap as if she intended to bolt out of the room at any second.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I suppose it’s one of those days today. I thought I should go. Make friends. Socialize. You know.”

Serena didn’t know, but:

“It’s a good idea. Your past is going to cling to you if you don’t have new memories to replace it with.”

“Words of wisdom.”

“And,” Serena was going to regret it. “I know the owner. So if you get too drunk to get home, you can tell her to get in touch with me and I’ll pick you up. I tend to sleep late so there is a good chance I’ll still be up.”

“You don’t have to nanny me,” Granger replied. “I told you, the past is the past. There is nothing for you to make up to me now.”

“Yes, but it will make _me_ feel better if I feel like you’re well assisted here. So please humor me with this. I trust you’re old enough to know your limits, either way.”

“Actually, I haven’t had a single sip for two and a half years. As you can guess, I thought it’d be dangerous for me to have the habit of drinking.”

Serena fidgeted with her quill, feeling like she had exposed herself way too much with that conversation. But she couldn’t help it. Granger was the closest thing to a friend she’s had ever since crossing the ocean. They didn’t talk much, only for those ten minutes of the ride to Granger’s place, though it isn’t like they needed to talk a lot to just… Know each other.

“That’s reasonable.”

“So who knows what state I’ll end up in tonight. I promise I’ll call you if something goes astray, though. I just don’t know if I’ll find the owner.”

“Her wife serves the tables. Impossible to miss her.”

“How often do _you_ go? To know the owners like that?”

“I always go alone so they took me under their wing.”

Which was true, but also: they had a very liberal marriage and Serena went there with the promise of a sure hook up with the owner. The wife, too, if the sex wouldn’t consist of two tops struggling to be in their preferred position.

Granger absolutely didn’t need to know that, though.

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for… You know. Caring.”

Serena cared?

She supposed she did.

How could she _not_?

“It’s what any decent person would do. And like I said, I like to think I’m such a person.”

Granger didn’t seem entirely pleased with that answer, but the disappointment in her face went away after a split of second, giving place to a kind smile.

“I’ll stop taking up your time, then. If everything goes well, I’ll see on Monday. 5 p.m. sharp.”

Serena almost hoped it wouldn’t be the case; after all, Granger was the only person she felt like she could talk to. After years and years without that kind of connection, she wanted to cherish it as often as possible.

Some things about her never changed.

She was still clingy as hell, it seemed like.

“Let us hope this will be the case.”

“Yes, let us pray. Hm,” Granger stood up, adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Goodbye. See you Monday.”


	5. Chapter 5

As it turned out, it wasn’t a third-wheeling sort of thing. It was a set up.

“Hey, ‘Mione, another friend of mine will be joining us there,” said Olivia as the three of them made their way to the Wicked Witch, as did many other students from the Institute. “She doesn’t study at Salem, she graduated from high school and got a job. The fucker.”

“Just how many friends do you have, exactly?”, Hermione quipped.

“I lost count,” Olivia’s girlfriend, a brunette named Laura, said with a laugh.

The mood was chipper. They talked about nothing and laughed over nothing. Hermione missed that sort of companionship. It never lasted, not in her experience, but alas, it was better than the usual nothing from the past three years.

The Wicked Witch was a quaint little bar stuck in a alley that did not seem too far off from Knockturn… Everything was so liberal at Salem that it was almost easy to forget that was not how the real world was like.

The bar was already crawling with post-grads, though Olivia managed to squeeze by the crowd and find a little table for them to sit at. Then a plump blonde woman with a dazzling rack in a very low-cut corset came to get their orders, and introduced herself as Linda.

Professor Prince was right. Impossible to miss Linda and her very… Nice pair of tits.

The order ended up being two pints of butterbeer, and Hermione stuck with a glass of elf wine.

“We’re going to get shots of firewhiskey when my friend arrives,” decided Olivia.

Hermione was not sure about that all, but she just sipped on her wine, making a promise to herself to enjoy the night. Knowing Arythmancy, soon she’d be overflowing with work and there wouldn’t be any time for night-outs.

Then Olivia’s friend arrived, an Amazon with thick, muscled arms and dark hair cut short, to a man’s style.

“What does she work with?”, Hermione asked.

“Oh, she plays Quidditch for a living.”

Wow.

That was a nice set up.

Hermione ended up doing the Firewhiskey shots, and also ended up with two fingers inside her, alone in the bathroom with the Amazon.

“So you know Ginny? Ginny Weasley?”

Oh oh.

Hermione frowned, lowering her skirt and pulling up her pantyhose.

“Yeah, why?”

“Maybe you could get her to autograph something for me. Since you’re friends and everything. How was it like… You know, in the war?”

Hermione sighed with an eye roll, too drunk to bother hiding her resentment. It always came to that: her past. She was so sick of it following her everywhere.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “And I think I’m going home.”

“Oops, I’m sorry. Is it a sensitive subject?”

“Of course it is a sensitive subject! My parents fucking died!”

Hermione stormed out of the bathroom and walked past the table where Olivia was too busy snogging with her girlfriend to realize what had just happened; she grabbed her coat in the rack and went outside to have some fresh air.

She leaned against the wall outside and fought back against tears, the joy drained out of the evening. She wanted to go back home, but Laura was the one who was supposed to drop them all off when the night was over.

And for sure there were no cabs passing on that suspicious-looking alley.

It made Hermione want to cry even harder. The alcohol was making it hard to control her emotions. Which was why she didn’t even stop to think twice when she remembered Professor Prince had offered to pick her up if something happened.

Better than trying to haul a cab, better than staying at the bar.

She went back inside and bee-lined towards Linda.

“Hey,” she said. “Can you call Serena Prince for me? Tell her it’s Hermione Granger. I’d like if she could come pick me up.”

Linda nodded, understandingly.

“Of course, my dear. I’ll go call her right away.”

“Thank you.”

“You should probably wait for her outside, though. She hates students. I’m sure you know.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Hermione.

“Yeah. I do know.”

So she went back outside, hands on the pockets of her coat. How far away did Professor Prince live?

She didn’t know for how long she waited; all she knew was that she didn’t wait for very long before Professor Prince showed up, perfectly dressed in slacks and a sweater and a coat.

“Where’s your car?”, Hermione asked.

“Parked on the street. You don’t seem too drunk.”

“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have called you to get me.”

Professor Prince chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

Together, they walked back to the empty street. Everything was quiet, empty. Instead of getting in the car, Hermione leaned against the door, taking in the scenery, the silence.

“Do you mind if I smoke?”, asked Professor Prince. “Since apparently you want to stay here for a while.”

She didn’t sound bothered by the idea, so Hermione just nodded.

“It’s just…” she started, once Professor Prince had lit a cigarette, leaning against the car beside her. “Oh, I suppose I was on a date, but the girl really just wanted an autograph from Ginny and wanted to know about the war and… I just wanted to have a fun night and not think about it. Can’t the past stay in the past?”

“You called your past for a ride home.”

“Well, yeah, I don’t mind you.”

This made Professor Prince actually laugh, smoke blowing out of her nostrils.

“You don’t _mind_ me. I guess this is as good as we’ll get.”

“I actually like you, but don’t make me say this when I’m sober.”

“Sure. We’ll keep this a secret.”

“And do you mind me?”

“No. Not at all.”

Hermione bit her lower lip and looked away. The silence was comfortable; they both need a moment to process what had just happened. And Hermione knew that on her end it wasn’t just not minding Professor Prince.

Perhaps she minded a bit too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey peoples how is it going
> 
> i promise i read all comments, i just have tendinitis on my hands so like i cant type a lot so im not going to reply each and everyone 
> 
> but i read them and enjoy them
> 
> hope y'all enjoy this chapter!


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